


Never Forget It

by LollipopCop



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, John is Comforting, Love Confessions, M/M, Requited Love, Sherlock is oblivious, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 15:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2196201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LollipopCop/pseuds/LollipopCop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today, Sherlock will finally tell John that he loves him. While practicing how he will confess his feelings, a terrifying thought dawns on Sherlock: what if John doesn't love him back?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Forget It

**Author's Note:**

> I like fluff.

Sherlock stared into the mirror with determination. This was it. Today was the day he was going to tell John Watson that he loved him, and he wanted to practice exactly what he was going to say. Sherlock knew he was in love with his partner (or lover, or whatever you want to call him) for five months now and it was eating away at his heart more and more by the minute. There were so many times when Sherlock just wanted to blurt out, “I love you!”, but his heart would get stuck in his throat, his mouth would be left hanging open, and John would stare at him with confusion and amusement.

Every prior attempt had failed.

Sherlock even resorted to telling John while he was sleeping, just to get it off his chest, but it was disappointingly unsatisfying.

God, he was being so stupid about this.

Sherlock glared at his reflection. “It’s just three words,” he told himself, “you can do it…Only three words which have the ability to drastically change your relationship with John and could lead to a break up.” Sherlock clutched his chest, his heart hammering painfully. “Stop it,” he commanded his heart.

He gripped the mantle, his palms sweating profusely, and leaned closer towards the mirror. “John,” he spoke to his currently absent partner, “I l—” he tongue got stuck on the “l” sound. Sherlock growled in frustration and shook his head. “Focus.” He took a calming breath. “It shouldn’t be this difficult…John,” he stared at himself in the mirror with even more determination, “it should come to no surprise that I am…quite fond of you…”

Okay, so far so good.

“I mean, you must know that by now. It’s obvious, isn’t it? You’re brave and kind and wise and…”

Crap, now he was rambling.

_Focus._

“What I mean to say,” he looked down at his hands, which were gripping the mantle so tightly his knuckles were white, “is that I, well…I love you!” he shouted.

That wouldn’t do any good either. He didn’t want to frighten John.

Sherlock sighed deeply. Upon looking at his reflection again, all determination melted away. He leaned his forehead against the cool glass. “Why am I even doing this?” he mumbled. “John probably doesn’t love me… I’m so _me_ and he’s so _John._ ” He realized that made no sense and shook his head against the glass. “The question is: why _would_ he love me?”

John was the one in their relationship who vocalized affection the most. He would call Sherlock beautiful, use pet names (which Sherlock secretly adored), and go on about how amazing Sherlock made him feel.  Sherlock firmly believed that John could write Valentine's Day cards, he was such a sap.

Bottom line: if John loved Sherlock, he would have said so by now. Sherlock suddenly felt like he had been doused in ice water. _John doesn’t love me._ Sherlock imagined what it would be like to confess his love to John and then be rejected. He could picture John’s handsome features scrunching up in disgust. He could imagine what John would say. John is a kind man, so he would let Sherlock down gently:

“Sherlock” he would shake his head and smile with pity, “that’s nice and all, but you’re taking this relationship a bit too seriously.”

Sherlock shuddered violently at the thought. Was he taking their relationship too seriously? John always told Sherlock how he meant “so much” to him, but love was never discussed. Sherlock swallowed a lump in his throat.

“John doesn’t love me," he said with resignation. 

_“What?!”_

Sherlock spun around to see John standing in the middle of the sitting room, looking appalled. They stared at each other for a full minute, eyes widened, in crushing silence.

Sherlock realized that he had stopped breathing and sharply took in a breath. “John! How long have you been home?”

“About two minutes,” he said. “I saw you standing there lost in a trance or something. I was going to say hello to you, but then you said... _that.”_

Sherlock bit the inside of his cheek and mentally cursed his eyes for stinging. “Delete it, John. Forget I ever said—”

“No,” John said simply. His expression was morphing from that of horror to…not pity…sorrow? Guilt? Sherlock felt like he was about to start trembling (which would be completely unacceptable). “Why not?”

“Sherlock,” John stepped forward, which caused Sherlock to back up against the mantle, “do you really think that?”

“T-think what?” Oh, wonderful. Now he was stuttering.

John frowned deeply. “Do you think I don’t love you?”

Sherlock’s hands were balled into fists and he failed to stop them from shaking. He looked down at his feet, but spoke clearly, “Yes, John. It’s only logical and I would be a fool to think otherwise. I understand. If we could still continue or relationship as if this whole mess hadn’t happened, that would be most ideal.” He was surprised that he spoke without his voice cracking. Sherlock was still looking down at his feet when John’s hand cupped his chin and lifted his head up, forcing their eyes to meet.

John looked wrecked. “Sherlock,” he whispered, “I can’t believe you would think like that. How do you, the most observant man in the world, not know that I love you?”

And it was in that moment when Sherlock felt like a train hit him. All his breath left him in an instant. He was shaking. John stroked both of Sherlock’s flushed cheeks with his thumbs. Sherlock was surprised that John’s thumbs became wet. _Am I crying?_

John took him by the hand and led him to the couch where he proceeded to hold Sherlock tightly to his chest.

“Shhh, it’s all right,” John soothed in his ear.

Sherlock couldn’t speak to scold John for treating him like a child. His throat was strangely clogged.

John brushed Sherlock’s curls from his face and kissed his forehead. He shifted so that Sherlock was facing him on his lap. “Sherlock,” John said gently but firmly, “I love you. I’ve loved you, god, for months now.” He looked pained. “I’m sorry for making you feel unloved.”

Sherlock had stopped shaking and his mind felt a little clearer, “You didn’t do anything, John.”

John kissed him sweetly on the lips. “You’re an idiot,” he smiled warmly.

For the first time all day, Sherlock smiled back. “I won’t deny it.”

John laughed through his nose. “Can I confess something? It isn’t anything bad, don’t make that face.”

“Okay,” Sherlock nodded.

“You told me you loved me a couple months ago, didn’t you? You thought I was asleep.”

Sherlock’s jaw dropped. “What? You—!”

“Calm down,” John kissed his brow. “I didn’t say anything back because I figured you weren’t ready to tell me yet, what with you thinking I couldn’t hear you.” John held Sherlock tighter, breathing in his scent. “God, I’ve been waiting to tell you for months.”

The joy consuming Sherlock was threatening to make him explode. Well, that’s what it felt like, at least. All tension completely melted away. Sherlock laughed gleefully and pressed frantic kisses all over John’s face. “John, John,” he kissed his nose. “I love you,” he kissed his cheeks. “I love you so much,” he kissed his neck. “I love you more than I can possibly say,” he kissed John’s lips.

John smiled and cupped Sherlock’s cheek. “I love you, too,” he said between rapidly heating kisses, “and never forget it.”

Sherlock broke the kiss and nuzzled a spot under John’s ear with his nose. “Care to take this to the bedroom, my love?”

“Oh, that sounds delightful, my dearest, most beautiful love,” John giggled.

Sherlock led John to their bedroom with an enormous smile on his face.

John Watson loved him, and he would never forget that.


End file.
